Lie (Turbo/Power Rangers, K)
Strangely Appropriate Icon FTW!
I've been on an anime kick lately due to being around my Shi-chan again. And somehow trying to explain plots to rosabelle and lunaria_kitty using Power Rangers characters lead into them prodding me to actually go through with it. I'm hoping to avoid making a mini-series out of this, or even a series of anime-based one-shots, but I'm not counting on it. -_-;;;
Author/: Tsukino Akume
Fandom/: Power Rangers Turbo
Characters/: Billy/Justin, Rocky
Pairings/: None
Rating/: K
Disclaimer/: Power Rangers still isn't mine. The premise for this was stolen from Detective Conan/Case Closed, which still isn't mine.
Summary/: Justin Stewart never existed. And he hated that only one person had realized it.
Warnings/: Massive Angst
Author's Notes/: rosabelle and lunaria_kitty made me do it. Really, they did.
Well, that and my recent Detective Conan addiction.
He walked into the apartment, feeling inexplicably tired. It was over, more or less. All taken care of, exactly as they'd planned. Rocky had played his part to the hilt, and no one else had suspected. Not even Tommy, and really, if anyone would have guessed by now it would have been him.
He supposed he was lucky that way.
'Lucky'.
"How'd it go?"
He didn't look up at the voice, choosing instead to flop down wearily in an overstuffed armchair that nearly swallowed him in his new stature. Dimly he was aware that it was merely the nature of the furniture style, a manner that was supposed to make it comfortable, but really, it only emphasized his situation. Which truly did not help his current mental state in the slightest. "It worked," he said belatedly, realizing the other was still waiting for an answer. "No one suspects."
There was a long silence.
He sighed quietly, knowing what the other wanted to say and desperately not wishing to hear it. "The paperwork is complete," he continued before he could say anything. "No background check short of an intergalactic intervention would be able to label it as falsified. The school administration accepted the testing without question, and everyone has congratulated me on my superior intelligence. Zordon has accepted me as the newest Ranger, if an unusual one, and the Turbo Morpher doesn't seem to present any issues with my current form. My fighting style is suitably adapted. There's nothing linking - "
A hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. "Billy," Rocky said quietly.
His facade crumbled, and he leaned forward, burying his face in his hands.
Eleven-years-old again. Trapped in the body of a child with the brain of a teenager. A highly intelligent teenager, no less. It was like a nightmare out of a child's television show.
A side effect of time travel, of growing up three times over. He supposed it was, at least. Something to do with being aged up in the past, perhaps. Or due to his attempt to use the Gold Ranger Power. The use of the Power at all? Who knew, really.
Because he didn't know. Zordon had trusted him enough on Rocky's word to give him a morpher, but not enough to allow him free reign of the Power Chamber. He hadn't built up that level of trust yet, to be allowed to play with such advanced technology.
The thought was like a knife to his heart. Zordon didn't know. Tommy didn't know. Or Jason. Or Kimberly. They'd known him the longest, and if he was able to fool them ...
Rocky of all people who had been the one who had guessed it. Rocky, who was a good friend, but not his closest. He'd been the only one to look past the suddenly brown hair and lack of eyeglasses and looked at him. He'd seen through the bright, hyperactive energy and cheerful smile and non-stop babble to create an identity that didn't exist. Through the sudden incredibly advanced martial arts skills and fantastic coordination, the brilliant mind, and the sullen, childish behavior.
He'd looked through Justin Stewart and seen Billy Cranston.
He cornered him shortly before the karate tournament, calmly listing evidence and calling him on every lie 'Justin' struggled to come up with, until Billy had broken down and confessed. He'd told Rocky everything, from the sudden return to childhood to the fake transmission feed from 'Aquitar', to Cestro's reluctant - if somewhat confused at his desperation to keep the secret - assistance, to the admittance that he'd been living in a children's shelter because he had nowhere else to go. Billy Cranston had been a legal adult, living alone while his father moved on to take a new job promotion. Justin Stewart had no such family. All he had was the clothes on his back and his own mind.
Shortly thereafter, Rocky had moved into his own apartment, and Justin found himself legally adopted. He'd tried to protest - he didn't wish to impose on his friend - but Rocky had been insistent. Billy - Justin, and goodness how hard was that to remember - needed help. This was something bigger than he was, and even if Rocky didn't necessarily agree with his insistence on keeping the transformation from the rest of their friends, he was adamant that Justin needed someone to look out for him. And he continued to keep the secret.
Tears burned his eyes at the thought. Rocky was a better friend than he had ever guessed.
Yet even with everything he had gone through, it was the mission to Miranthius that had been the worst torture. He'd protested Rocky sending him in the first place - Zordon would see through him in an instant, he was sure - but Rocky wasn't going anywhere at the time and there was no one else. In the end, he'd gone because it was true, and even then Rocky would have months of physical therapy to go through, because Ranger or not, everyone had seen him fall and no one would believe a miraculous recovery. There simply wasn't time to get anyone else.
But in the end, he'd worried for nothing. Zordon had accepted Justin at face value. Tommy, a man he had fought for and beside and behind for four years hadn't seen through him in an instant. Jason, who had been his best friend since he was fourteen, had protected him from bullies and helped him develop his martial arts, smiled kindly and treated Justin as a distant acquaintance. Kimberly, who had been practically his sister since elementary school had looked at him oddly once or twice, but simply smiled and thanked him for saving her with that casual friendliness she gave to everyone. Kat, Adam, Tanya ... even Alpha, who he'd worked beside for years, hadn't seen through his ruse. People who had grown beside him, seen him as a child multiple times, claimed to be his team, his friends ...
"I hate them," he whispered, hating himself even as he said it. It was true; the black bitterness filling him and making him want to scream and rant at them. He shouldn't, and part of him didn't want to, because truly, it wasn't anyone's fault. Who expected to see their eighteen-year-old friend in the body of a pre-teen after all?
But part of him felt that after all they'd been through, after everything they'd done together, they should have. And while his mind remained incredibly advanced, a part of him - the emotional side he assumed, one he'd avoided and suppressed for years - remained a child. A child that felt betrayed and abandoned. How could they claim to be his friends when clearly they didn't know him at all?
The hand on his shoulder moved to embrace him, and he turned into it, fighting the sudden urge to bury his face in Rocky's shoulder and cry the way he had when he'd first awoken in the body of a child. "I know," Rocky murmured, moving to pull him into a full hug despite his half-hearted protests. "Sometimes ... I hate them too."
He swallowed hard, immensely grateful even as he again, wished he wasn't. "You shouldn't. *We* shouldn't," he amended. "They ... it's no one's - "
"Billy," Rocky cut in gently.
And he stopped. He stopped trying to convince himself that it was okay when it wasn't, that he wasn't hurt or betrayed or more emotions than he would ever truly be able to name. He stopped trying to convince Rocky that it wasn't a big deal, that he could handle things on his own - he was a certified genius, after all - and that he didn't need the other teen to stay by his side.
Because it was all a lie. He *was* hurt and betrayed. He *did* need someone with him in this, to talk to, to listen, to treat him as an adult instead of the child he'd never really been. Someone to cover for his sudden disappearances now that he was a Ranger again, who would smile for him because he was grateful that he was, because he'd never really wanted to quit in the first place. He needed Rocky, and he needed the chance to stop trying not to think about what had happened. He needed someone who could see him as Billy, and understand that Justin didn't actually exist.
And God help him, but he was grateful even as he finally broke down into tears
I've been on an anime kick lately due to being around my Shi-chan again. And somehow trying to explain plots to rosabelle and lunaria_kitty using Power Rangers characters lead into them prodding me to actually go through with it. I'm hoping to avoid making a mini-series out of this, or even a series of anime-based one-shots, but I'm not counting on it. -_-;;;
Author/: Tsukino Akume
Fandom/: Power Rangers Turbo
Characters/: Billy/Justin, Rocky
Pairings/: None
Rating/: K
Disclaimer/: Power Rangers still isn't mine. The premise for this was stolen from Detective Conan/Case Closed, which still isn't mine.
Summary/: Justin Stewart never existed. And he hated that only one person had realized it.
Warnings/: Massive Angst
Author's Notes/: rosabelle and lunaria_kitty made me do it. Really, they did.
Well, that and my recent Detective Conan addiction.
He walked into the apartment, feeling inexplicably tired. It was over, more or less. All taken care of, exactly as they'd planned. Rocky had played his part to the hilt, and no one else had suspected. Not even Tommy, and really, if anyone would have guessed by now it would have been him.
He supposed he was lucky that way.
'Lucky'.
"How'd it go?"
He didn't look up at the voice, choosing instead to flop down wearily in an overstuffed armchair that nearly swallowed him in his new stature. Dimly he was aware that it was merely the nature of the furniture style, a manner that was supposed to make it comfortable, but really, it only emphasized his situation. Which truly did not help his current mental state in the slightest. "It worked," he said belatedly, realizing the other was still waiting for an answer. "No one suspects."
There was a long silence.
He sighed quietly, knowing what the other wanted to say and desperately not wishing to hear it. "The paperwork is complete," he continued before he could say anything. "No background check short of an intergalactic intervention would be able to label it as falsified. The school administration accepted the testing without question, and everyone has congratulated me on my superior intelligence. Zordon has accepted me as the newest Ranger, if an unusual one, and the Turbo Morpher doesn't seem to present any issues with my current form. My fighting style is suitably adapted. There's nothing linking - "
A hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. "Billy," Rocky said quietly.
His facade crumbled, and he leaned forward, burying his face in his hands.
Eleven-years-old again. Trapped in the body of a child with the brain of a teenager. A highly intelligent teenager, no less. It was like a nightmare out of a child's television show.
A side effect of time travel, of growing up three times over. He supposed it was, at least. Something to do with being aged up in the past, perhaps. Or due to his attempt to use the Gold Ranger Power. The use of the Power at all? Who knew, really.
Because he didn't know. Zordon had trusted him enough on Rocky's word to give him a morpher, but not enough to allow him free reign of the Power Chamber. He hadn't built up that level of trust yet, to be allowed to play with such advanced technology.
The thought was like a knife to his heart. Zordon didn't know. Tommy didn't know. Or Jason. Or Kimberly. They'd known him the longest, and if he was able to fool them ...
Rocky of all people who had been the one who had guessed it. Rocky, who was a good friend, but not his closest. He'd been the only one to look past the suddenly brown hair and lack of eyeglasses and looked at him. He'd seen through the bright, hyperactive energy and cheerful smile and non-stop babble to create an identity that didn't exist. Through the sudden incredibly advanced martial arts skills and fantastic coordination, the brilliant mind, and the sullen, childish behavior.
He'd looked through Justin Stewart and seen Billy Cranston.
He cornered him shortly before the karate tournament, calmly listing evidence and calling him on every lie 'Justin' struggled to come up with, until Billy had broken down and confessed. He'd told Rocky everything, from the sudden return to childhood to the fake transmission feed from 'Aquitar', to Cestro's reluctant - if somewhat confused at his desperation to keep the secret - assistance, to the admittance that he'd been living in a children's shelter because he had nowhere else to go. Billy Cranston had been a legal adult, living alone while his father moved on to take a new job promotion. Justin Stewart had no such family. All he had was the clothes on his back and his own mind.
Shortly thereafter, Rocky had moved into his own apartment, and Justin found himself legally adopted. He'd tried to protest - he didn't wish to impose on his friend - but Rocky had been insistent. Billy - Justin, and goodness how hard was that to remember - needed help. This was something bigger than he was, and even if Rocky didn't necessarily agree with his insistence on keeping the transformation from the rest of their friends, he was adamant that Justin needed someone to look out for him. And he continued to keep the secret.
Tears burned his eyes at the thought. Rocky was a better friend than he had ever guessed.
Yet even with everything he had gone through, it was the mission to Miranthius that had been the worst torture. He'd protested Rocky sending him in the first place - Zordon would see through him in an instant, he was sure - but Rocky wasn't going anywhere at the time and there was no one else. In the end, he'd gone because it was true, and even then Rocky would have months of physical therapy to go through, because Ranger or not, everyone had seen him fall and no one would believe a miraculous recovery. There simply wasn't time to get anyone else.
But in the end, he'd worried for nothing. Zordon had accepted Justin at face value. Tommy, a man he had fought for and beside and behind for four years hadn't seen through him in an instant. Jason, who had been his best friend since he was fourteen, had protected him from bullies and helped him develop his martial arts, smiled kindly and treated Justin as a distant acquaintance. Kimberly, who had been practically his sister since elementary school had looked at him oddly once or twice, but simply smiled and thanked him for saving her with that casual friendliness she gave to everyone. Kat, Adam, Tanya ... even Alpha, who he'd worked beside for years, hadn't seen through his ruse. People who had grown beside him, seen him as a child multiple times, claimed to be his team, his friends ...
"I hate them," he whispered, hating himself even as he said it. It was true; the black bitterness filling him and making him want to scream and rant at them. He shouldn't, and part of him didn't want to, because truly, it wasn't anyone's fault. Who expected to see their eighteen-year-old friend in the body of a pre-teen after all?
But part of him felt that after all they'd been through, after everything they'd done together, they should have. And while his mind remained incredibly advanced, a part of him - the emotional side he assumed, one he'd avoided and suppressed for years - remained a child. A child that felt betrayed and abandoned. How could they claim to be his friends when clearly they didn't know him at all?
The hand on his shoulder moved to embrace him, and he turned into it, fighting the sudden urge to bury his face in Rocky's shoulder and cry the way he had when he'd first awoken in the body of a child. "I know," Rocky murmured, moving to pull him into a full hug despite his half-hearted protests. "Sometimes ... I hate them too."
He swallowed hard, immensely grateful even as he again, wished he wasn't. "You shouldn't. *We* shouldn't," he amended. "They ... it's no one's - "
"Billy," Rocky cut in gently.
And he stopped. He stopped trying to convince himself that it was okay when it wasn't, that he wasn't hurt or betrayed or more emotions than he would ever truly be able to name. He stopped trying to convince Rocky that it wasn't a big deal, that he could handle things on his own - he was a certified genius, after all - and that he didn't need the other teen to stay by his side.
Because it was all a lie. He *was* hurt and betrayed. He *did* need someone with him in this, to talk to, to listen, to treat him as an adult instead of the child he'd never really been. Someone to cover for his sudden disappearances now that he was a Ranger again, who would smile for him because he was grateful that he was, because he'd never really wanted to quit in the first place. He needed Rocky, and he needed the chance to stop trying not to think about what had happened. He needed someone who could see him as Billy, and understand that Justin didn't actually exist.
And God help him, but he was grateful even as he finally broke down into tears